


we'll begin with a spin

by SmartKIN



Series: Ice Rink Verse [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, No Alpha Pack, No Darach, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 22:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4937980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartKIN/pseuds/SmartKIN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd and Stiles go skating once more; siblings, clumsiness, and kisses are all part of the deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll begin with a spin

**Author's Note:**

> Took 'em long enough, amiright?
> 
> Hope you like it~

They were sitting next to each other in Econ, waiting for the Coach who was already seven minutes late. It wasn’t that Stiles had planned to sit next to Boyd, it had just sort of happened... more and more, lately. To be fair, Stiles had always gravitated around Boyd, never quite courageous enough to actually talk to him, to this boy that confused him like no other.

But now they were both part of the supernatural world, however tangentially, and that had created a sort of unspoken camaraderie between them.

None of that, however, had prepared him for Boyd actually speaking to him.

“You still skate sometimes?” asked Boyd and briefly glanced at Stiles, before turning his attention back to his Econ book.

Stiles dropped his pen and whirled his head around, forgetting how to be smooth in an instant. Not that he’d ever really been smooth in the past, but staring at Boyd with wide eyes was probably way less smooth than even he should be able to manage.

“What?” he squeaked, feeling his heart rate pick up and his palms start to sweat. “Why would you ask?”

Boyd shrugged.

“Just curious.”

Stiles was probably quiet for a moment too long but eventually managed to answer while trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

“Yeah,” he replied faintly. “Once a year, usually.”

Boyd looked at him, then, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by Coach Finstock waltzing loudly into the classroom, ranting about the administration.

“Wanna go on Saturday? I have to teach my kid brother,” Boyd continued in a whisper and pretended to be interested in Coach’s opening remarks.

“Samson,” said Stiles, without thinking.

Boyd frowned.

“How do you know his name? I never told you.”

Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat and grinned awkwardly.

“I may or may not have used police resources to stalk people,” he admitted nervously and hoped Boyd wouldn’t be mad. But the other boy only snorted, like that was something to be expected from Stiles, which, frankly, it sort of was.

“So, you in?” Boyd asked again and Stiles nodded hastily.

“Yeah, sure! Totally!”

His heart still hammered wildly in his chest halfway through Econ.

*

Stiles quickly learned that “teaching my kid brother” actually translated to “teaching my kid brother, with my other two younger siblings coming along just for funsies”. Which was cool, Boyd’s siblings were actually really adorable and, strangely enough, liked Stiles’ antics. What they especially liked was how Stiles could be a klutz and fall on his ass sometimes. Apparently going down arms flailing was pretty hilarious.

He might have played it up a little just to hear them shriek and giggle. Judging by Boyd’s smirk, the other boy knew exactly what Stiles was doing.

After Sammy had gotten the hang of it, which, to Stiles’ very own embarrassment, had taken a lot less time than when Stiles had learned to ice-skate back in the day, the teenagers let the kid loose on the rink together with Lyle and Olivia, and went for a spin by themselves.

It was... fun, Stiles decided, to spend a carefree day with his on-again, off-again pack-mate — no bloodshed, no running for their lives, just skating on the ice and trying not to face-plant in front of his crush. Piece of cake.

Except not.

They had barely made it past the bend when Stiles briefly lost control over his blades and started to topple over backwards.

Before he could painfully crash onto the ice, however, Boyd, _thank the Lord_ , managed to grab and steady him with the help of those amazing werewolf-y reflexes of his.

“Holy--,” Stiles hissed and instinctively clung to Boyd’s arm that had partly wrapped around him. “I am so not made for this shit.”

His heartbeat a rabbit-quick thumping in his chest, Stiles tried to catch his breath.

“Yeah, no kidding,” agreed Boyd with amusement coloring his voice.

“Thanks, man.”

Stiles grinned sheepishly and looked up at the other boy. As he did, he met Boyd’s gaze and something that had been hovering between them for a while now snapped into place, taut, trapping them like this, unable to look away.

Stiles’ grin slowly dropped from his face and he could do nothing but helplessly stare at this gorgeous boy he’d had a crush on since he was eight years old.

Something in Boyd’s gaze changed, too, and the werewolf cocked his head curiously to the side. And Stiles just.. he was unable to think, too many thoughts were cursing through him, too many emotions.

All he wanted was...

Stiles’ eyes flickered to Boyd’s lips for a brief second and when they snapped back up, Boyd’s gaze had dropped as well.

Suddenly, Boyd leaned down and brushed their lips together, hesitantly, experimentally, and Stiles was a goner — his eyes fluttered shut and he kissed back, trying to get closer, his hands clutching Boyd’s jacket.

A throaty noise escaped him against his will — but this was exactly what he’d been daydreaming about since forever, what he’d tried to formulate in a sonnet for English class that one time.

And Boyd — Boyd already leaned back, but Stiles couldn’t fathom why, didn’t want it to stop, needed it to go on. Almost unconsciously he chased Boyd’s lips, leaned in where the other boy tried to create more space between them.

And maybe it had been insecurity that had guided Boyd, because when Stiles refused to step back Boyd all but pounced him with a growl, pressing forward, deepening the kiss, dragging Stiles closer.

Stiles gasped wetly, his body shivering at the sudden intensity, before surging forward again, chasing Boyd’s lips. He was lost, lost in the taste and feel of Boyd’s lips, lost in the rushing heartbeat in his ears, lost in the tingle that made his toes curl. This was it, this was what he’d wanted, what he’d needed and--

An orchestra of giggles interrupted them, shamelessly, and Boyd finally drew back.

Cold air brushed Stiles’ flushed face and he blinked against the artificial glare of overhead light.

“Vern’n,” asked Sammy and tugged at their jackets. Stiles tried not to look into the faces of Boyd’s siblings, because this was just too mortifying. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Stiles blushed and realized with a start that he was still wrapped in Boyd’s arms. Arms that squeezed him, just now.

He buried his face in Boyd’s shoulder with an undignified squawk and hoped that Boyd could just _smell_ what he was feeling.

“Yeah,” Boyd eventually said. “He’s my boyfriend.”

And if anything at all, the nervous butterflies in his stomach got even worse.

 


End file.
